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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23514364">Idiots</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rabakholi/pseuds/Rabakholi'>Rabakholi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Geralt smiles, Getting Together, Jaskier's snapping, Kisses, M/M, Making Out, No one gets hurt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:49:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,428</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23514364</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rabakholi/pseuds/Rabakholi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“You could just let me go, you know.”<br/>Jaskier wasn’t gonna protest much, because- in Geralts arms? Safe, warm and loved? Hell yeah.<br/>“Never. They will have to pry you out of my cold, stiff arms.”<br/>“Creepy.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>241</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Idiots</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i'm great at titles, don't @ me</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <span>„It has to be a curse. I can’t explain it otherwise.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt rolled his eyes at Jaskier, who has been whining for the last three days. It’s been raining for equally long, and it’s been a bit of a struggle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Always clammy, always wet and cold; even Geralt had enough of it. But he knew this was just a built-up. There was a storm coming, a really fucking big one. And he’d prefer to be back home before it hit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Geralt, do something.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What am I supposed to do about the fucking weather?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know, growl at it! Glare at the clouds with those killer eyes of yours!” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>The wet sound of mud swallowing boot gave Geralt a sense of childish satisfaction. Jaskier was flailing, then cursing, before he quieted and merely grumbled under his breath as he tried to unlodge his boot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just a few paces later, Geralt stopped and turned to watch him. It was hopeless. He huffed and stalked over to grab him, lift him over his shoulder and set him on Roach, who snorted unhappily at that. The mare was coloured brownish grey from her hooves to her belly, her tail hung in thick tangles and she was wet down to her skin. She was not yet cold to the touch, but it wouldn’t take much longer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier had let out a shriek and now sat astride the horse and looked glumly down at his naked toes. “Geralt.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wriggled them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My boot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt grunted, shook his head. “I’ll buy you a new pair.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Affronted, the bard gasped. “But I </span>
  <em>
    <span>like</span>
  </em>
  <span> this pair!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They are holey anyways.” Geralt made to grab the reins, but Jaskier was faster.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Geralt!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jaskier!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At that, he stopped. He was so tired. “Fine.” So he went back, careful not to get stuck himself, and pulled the stupid, rank boot out of the sludge. “Here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He threw it to the bard, then wiped his hand on his thigh and clicked his tongue to pull Roach along.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Night had come faster than anticipated, and they had to take shelter in a farmer’s stable. It was dry, it was warm, it was a nice change of pace.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their clothes were hanging on ropes strung up in the beams, and with a bit of luck they’d be less soaked tomorrow. Maybe even just ‘damp’. Jaskier was sitting on a stool, a woollen blanket wrapped around his form, as he scrubbed his mud-coated boots, while he muttered on and on about Geralts attempt to leave his footwear behind. “Get me new ones, I can’t believe it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Other than that, the stable was filled with sounds of Roach and the sheep munching on hay and the occasional snort from the dog sleeping in a corner.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt was busy cleaning up Roach, determined to get the worst of the dirt off. It would be easier to wait for it to dry, but they’d be on their way by that time and he’d have no time to brush it out. So he was positioned behind his mare, her tail in his hands and a bucket of water between his feet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskiers incessant nagging was constantly penetrating the peaceful atmosphere and Geralt slowly but surely had enough. He dropped the tail, pushed the bucket aside and snapped at his bard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is you problem, Jaskier. It’s just boots!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not just boots, okay. The have emotional value!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was still scrubbing, his knuckles white around the brush and his hair falling into his eyes. He wasn’t looking up at Geralt, but the witcher was too irked by the words to notice anyway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emotional- what?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the fuck?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They are important to me, you big lug of a man. You can’t seem to understand that concept, but please let the people who have feelings live them out, alright?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hot anger built inside his chest, just for a moment. Then it was replaced by cold, slimy disappointment. So he thought it too. How quaint.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pray tell, what is their value then? What have they done to be so important to you?”, he sneered. Jaskier raised his head, defiance written onto his face. “They have stood by me wherever I went for these last years, they have brought me back to you when I thought I had lost you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stood up, the stool toppling over as he went, and threw them at Geralt.  “They are the first gift you made me, you fucking idiot!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Roach snorted and ducked her head deeper into the hay. Idiots.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier didn’t take notice of Geralt’s frozen figure, he just ranted on. “I am sorry that I have built an attachment to the dead animal covering my feet, but it’s served me well and carried me wherever I had to go, and I won’t have you abandoning them like worthless pieces of rotten leather.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt was still just standing there, staring.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly Jaskier felt very stupid and pathetic.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All his fight left him, and he rubbed the back of his hand across his forehead. “I just- forget it, I’m talking mad, I-“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You- you kept them all this time because I’ve bought them for you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt wasn’t sure he’d understood, he had to ask, had to make sure.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier laughed bitterly, lowered his eyes to the floor. “I get if you rather have me go my own way tomorrow. I shall not bother you anymore. “</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He startled when boots intruded his line of view, and literally jumped when a hand came to cup his chin and raise his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t you dare leave after yelling at me, Julian.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt was smiling. The bastard was smiling, and now the bard knew why he tended not to. It would be devastating to anyone in his vicinity. They’d die.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was bright and soft and adoring and sweet. None of those were words he’d ever associated with Geralt, but wow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was still busy staring at him, when the Witcher bent down, pulled him in and kissed him. Jaskier flailed, fell against Geralt’s broad chest and let out the most manly squeak to ever be heard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn’t supress a shiver at the rumbled words and went lax in Geralts arms as the kisses migrated from his lips to his neck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you doing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Being grateful for your big mouth, Jask.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fingers were digging into his side, trailing down to his ass, driving Jaskier wild. He groaned and pressed closer, his body having a mind of it own. Fortunately, because his actual mind was blown away, empty, like a cave abandoned by all living beings.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m so very grateful that you chose to tell me this. Because it means you won’t attack me for longing for you, Jask.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt took a deep breath, nuzzled the underside of Jaskiers jaw. “You have no idea how hard it is, to stay sane with your scent constantly in my nose.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was less overwhelming than the kissing, but it still melted Jaskiers insides. His brain started to piece together actual sentences, however.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was always questioning your sanity, Geralt.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm.” , he grunted, then pressed a chaste kiss to Jasks collarbone and straightened. He didn’t take his arm from around the bard though, and instead tried to spread out the blanket with one hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You could just let me go, you know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier wasn’t gonna protest much, because- in Geralts arms? Safe, warm and loved? Hell yeah.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Never. They will have to pry you out of my cold, stiff arms.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Creepy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt laid his bard out, spread eagle on the blanket, softened by the hay below, and settled between his thighs. Jaskier reached for him, curled his arms around his shoulders. “So, you’ve been pining for me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t pine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes were betraying his words though, as did the soft smirk on his lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure you don’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt ducked, went for a kiss that Jaskier was almost too happy to reciprocate.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A very loud, very close howl interrupted them, and Jask tensed. That sounded way to close for his comfort. Or the sheep’s, for that matter. They grew restless, and the dog had awoken and now growled at the barn door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Was that a wolf?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another howl, quieter, lower, answered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Geralt looked down at his bard and snickered. “What, you wanna tell me you’re afraid?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jaskier looked up at him and shook his head. “Why would I be afraid of some wolves when I’m in the arms of the biggest and baddest wolf to have ever walked this earth?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
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